


i want it just like that

by veniyuri



Series: xiukai soulmate au [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Kim Minseok | Xiumin-centric, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22175710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veniyuri/pseuds/veniyuri
Summary: There's poetry in how fate ties its strings. Minseok thinks the most intimate way to know him is through his sadness.or, when you cry your soulmate cries too
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Series: xiukai soulmate au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596238
Comments: 5
Kudos: 74





	i want it just like that

When he tells people he doesn't want to meet his soulmate, Minseok knows what it sounds like.

The romance of finding your other half is one part of the urgency to find The One, but it's second to the pure desire to be _happy_. Unmatched people smile and laugh just like anyone else, but soulmate happiness is said to be a different, deeper feeling that comes from within your very being.

There's nothing like it, everyone says. It's why even if soulmates don't fall into a romantic relationship, they're still an integral part of each other's lives. After all, who wants to give up happiness?

That's what people think when Minseok expresses his disinterest, and he doesn't really begrudge them for it. There's no logical reason to avoid a soulmate—even he can admit that. The recent years have seen a surge in social campaigns to normalize soulmate bonds that aren't restrictive, ones that function less traditionally and push for the acceptance of soulmate individuality as it's called.

Even if you're not actively searching, almost everyone agrees that now more than ever, meeting a soulmate is the least stressful it's been.

But that's not Minseok's issue. He's fine with commitment, he's fine with waking up with someone else in his bed, he's fine with rearranging his schedule to better accommodate another's—a relationship doesn't scare him. And he's not even scared, really, he's just... unwilling to change how he is.

In a fast paced, ever changing world, what Minseok craves the most is stability. He wears out his clothes until they're fraying at the edges and he refuses to get a new phone until his is absolutely shot after multiple attempts to fix it. He's had the same friend since primary school, with little variation, and once he'd moved to Seoul and found a quiet office job he's worked that ever since.

He doesn't expect people to understand why he rejects a promotion that'll have him learning a new role and traveling to new places. Constantly. It just gets a bit annoying when they act like he's a freak of human nature for having priorities that aren't upward mobility.

Life is meant to be enjoyed as an individual sees fit, and Minseok is perfectly content with how he lives right now.

Maybe he's not happy in the way a soulmate would make him, but that too is something he's used to.

Another way soulmates are urged together has nothing to do with people and everything to do with the bond. Of all the emotions to share before you've even met, sadness is the worst one. By a certain age, everyone knows their tears are shared by someone else in the world, and when that thought isn't comforting enough the urge to find that person flares up and you get teenagers going on journeys to find themselves. Or their other self, technically.

It's always been a more private kind of emotion for Minseok, and he thinks if there's ever a deep way to know him without meeting him it's probably through his sadness. It's rare he actually cries, but when he does it's usually with a weighted heart within the confines of his room. It's when he sinks into himself and lets the world around him cease to exist.

No one, no soulmate, no living soul penetrates this time.

It almost drove him insane when he was younger, desperate to find someone who would take it all away and show him the magic of a soulmate. But his attempts to search were frantic and messy, and too impulsive to last more than a week before he burned out and contemplated whether his soulmate even existed.

That happens too, of course: sometimes a soulmate dies and the other is left to live while never experiencing what some would say is true happiness. Those are society's most pitied, and while studies are trying to find ways to replicate a soul bond to at least give these people chances at feeling what the rest of the world can, it's hard to recreate what's always been intangible.

Minseok's youth therefore bounced between feeling sorry for himself and feeling sorry for the poor soul that probably got woken up at dumb hours of the night crying because Minseok just couldn't sob at reasonable hours. 

It was pretty miserable, he'll admit. But a soulmate didn't come along and save him, and now he doesn't really need one. The person's alive, as far as he knows, and that's as far as he's let himself be concerned about them.

For a reason he doesn't know, January 23rd is an important date. Minseok has spent more than ten years feeling heavier than usual on this very day, and for someone quite intimately familiar with his own emotional habits, he knows this weight isn't his.

Physical tears aren't always the only thing soulmates share. Sometimes the feeling gets carried with it, in instances as fickle as a human heart itself. Minseok rarely gets this kind of signal, and while he does burst into tears at odd times of the day occasionally they're generally little more than that—tears he can wipe away then get on with his life.

But January 23rd is always a hard day. His soulmate feels terrible a whole twenty-four hours, and it's strong enough that Minseok does too. The crying happens at random moments, and Minseok sometimes feels like he's choking with emotions. He usually asks for the day off, and by now his few acquaintances know not to disturb him either.

As much as he feels like he's dying, Minseok handles his intensity best when he's alone. He has the things that ground him, the things that help him cope, and he's gotten through almost fifteen January 23rds just fine. He'll make it fifteen even today, whenever his soulmate wakes up and lets their emotions hit them like a truck.

Minseok is nursing an afternoon coffee in a chipped mug whose lettering has faded after years of washes when it hits him. His hands tremble, and he sucks in a deep breath as the tears roll silently down his face.

This year is special, maybe. His soulmate is taking it harshly. He feels sympathy for them, as much as he feels relief for himself. 

He's fortunate as well to have a single date on which he can confirm that his soulmate is in fact still alive.

It's Jongdae that takes it a step further. The morning of January 24th and Minseok is still feeling like garbage but arguably less so than before.

He's curled up on his couch, and his best (and only) friend has come to visit. Sometimes when "January 23rd" doesn't fall neatly within the sunrise and sunset of his January 23rd, he has to take two days off. It's hard to find sleep when a sob is constantly heavy in his chest, and his eyes are both dark from lack of sleep and red-rimmed from all the crying he's done.

Jongdae brings takeout and company that Minseok sorely needs. These kind of years are the worst ones.

"I was thinking, you know, how sometimes this thing," Jongdae waves vaguely in Minseok's direction, "happens at different times. But it's obviously some kind of anniversary, so it's an all day kinda deal."

Minseok just stares at him, and confirms that he doesn't need another friend in his life because Jongdae only needs that much to get it. To get him.

"What I'm saying is, the only explanation is that your soulmate is in a different time zone. And apparently that time zone changes sometimes. If you compare when you start feeling like shit to, I don't know, a timezone chart, you can track your soulmate's location, can't you?"

The revelation is... simple, but in a way life changing. Minseok had lost his passion and drive to find his soulmate years ago, but with a simple and foolproof method now available to him, it feels like dusting off an old mystery and discovering a new clue.

He may not be dying for his soulmate's presence, but that doesn't mean he isn't curious.

This year he hadn't paid much attention to when it started, but maybe next year…

Then he deflates. 

"It's a nice thought, but it won't work." Minseok's stomach grumbles and he chews on a piece of fried chicken to appease it.

"Why not? It makes sense doesn't it?"

"Do you think my soulmate waits for the clock to strike twelve to start feeling awful? Who knows what time they wake up and go to bed; if their sleep schedule is fucked time zones don't mean shit." Quietly, like a grown adult putting back an old robot he hasn't touched since he was a kid, Minseok tucks away the flare of hope that almost got him excited.

But Jongdae frowns. "Okay, it won't have the accuracy to launch a full on trip to find them, but if today is an important date I doubt they're sleeping through it all. Maybe next year if you track the time more carefully, you can at least get an idea of what continent they're on."

That sounds fair. It's not as life altering as Minseok had initially thought, but being able to place the location of one person out of billions, even generally, is no small feat. His soulmate must travel, if their timezones are changing so often. Maybe Minseok will buy a map and mark their trail.

He sniffles, and that's when he realizes he's crying into his chicken. Jongdae rubs his back and Minseok sighs as he tucks himself against his friend's side. 

Minseok comes to the conclusion his soulmate had been somewhere in Europe. Broadly, the western side of the Eastern Hemisphere where most time zones are around eight hours behind Korea. 

Far away, in other words. He feels like that should disappoint him, but instead Minseok feels like the small surge of interest in his soulmate is satisfied knowing this. They're alive, a continent away, and not close by any means.

It ignites no desire to find them. Even if they have been in the same time zone a few times, judging by what Minseok can remember of the past fifteen years, that's anywhere from Russia to Australia.

Next year, Minseok has a map ready and a lot of clocks on his phone. It's the evening of January 23rd and he hasn't felt much of anything.

If last year was like a truck, this year is the slow crawl of honey down a spoon. Minseok almost doesn't notice it—he curls in on himself hugging a pillow to his chest, and thinks maybe the date is really getting to him too.

He's no stranger to the quiet kind of grief. It settles over him like a blanket until it's suffocating him, and only when he cries does he realize it's not him at all. His soulmate has woken up.

He'd abandoned his phone and his map on the coffee table in another room, but Minseok no longer feels like tracking his soulmate. It's going to be a long day and even longer night.

Minseok wonders if his soulmate feels this heaviness too, or if he's so accustomed to an oppressive mind it's himself weighing him down. 

If that's true, he must be making it worse for his soulmate. And for what? He doesn't even know what he's upset about.

Minseok doesn't eat or sleep or call Jongdae until he's picking up the pieces of himself and assembles them into something that looks more like Kim Minseok.

His friend hugs him at the doorway and asks what took him so long.

Minseok doesn't date. Not because he has anything against it, but it's always turned out more of a hassle than it's worth.

A partner expects a lot of his time and space, and Minseok doesn't give those out often. He'll go on dates and visit theirs and invite them to his a little less frequently in comparison, but he needs a solid break and sometimes he finds himself wishing that break would never end.

He doesn't know if it's a matter of his person or no one being quite right for him, but he only has a collection of memorable break ups under his belt.

Once someone thought he was cheating on them with Jongdae. It only resulted in Jongdae now occasionally making kissy faces at him and claiming they're boyfriends because, unfortunately, Minseok's ex had confronted Jongdae directly about their suspicions. 

But that doesn't mean he's lonely. For one, he does in fact have Jongdae. But for two, Minseok doesn't have an issue finding someone for a night. He has eyes and a dick that both work and both appreciate beauty when he sees them.

His mouth, not so much. Many of Minseok's would-be conquests start and end with Minseok's moon eyes from across a room. He likes when they come to him, because then he's good at sending open signals and encouraging them close. But when it's his turn to be forward he loses steam halfway through a hello.

When he says he doesn't have issues, he means he can doll himself up enough to make people come to him. And he can generally afford to be picky. 

Jongdae likes to look sly and call it "Minseok on the hunt," and Minseok smacks him for it every time.

The way he does it is nothing like a hunter. He's more like a rabbit bearing his neck for the prettiest fox he sees.

He pats himself on the back for being able to lure in pretty foxes though.

There's nothing special about how he meets Kim Jongin. Despite what every romance novel has prepared him for, the moment is neither heartstopping nor magical.

An unnatural hoard of people is what catches Minseok's attention first. And as he's on his way to work, Minseok doesn't have time to do more than just notice it, so he tries to hurry on his way.

Except the metaphorical eye of the storm is coming towards him, and the result is both security guards that came out of nowhere and hoards of girls shoving into his path. Minseok ends up stumbling and falling, and soft curses fall under his breath as he gets himself up and dusts his clothes.

"Clear the way," a security guard grunts, and it could have been aimed at Minseok or it could have been an order to the general public and the result would be the same:

"Fuck, I'm trying," muttered sharply under his breath with a, retrospectively, fate-driven glare. If he'd picked at a piece of lint dramatically to be prissy, or if he'd ignored his clothes and left right away, he would have missed it. The timing is unnaturally perfect.

His glare doesn't meet a faceless guard. Instead, through the gap in heads, he catches the eye of the star himself and everything clicks in an instant.

Both of them have time to blink exactly once before several things happen.

The crowd implodes and like a force of nature, Minseok is pushed back like driftwood riding a tidal wave. 

Minseok himself also turns and valiantly tries to book it on his own. So more like driftwood trying to doggy paddle through a tidal wave. It just so happens his direction and the wave coincide, so it doesn't matter in the end that Minseok doesn't contribute much to his impulse to flee from his soulmate.

He's going to be late for work. Cellphone pressed between his ear and shoulder as he haphazardly consolidates who he is as a person while crafting an apology in his head, the scolding from his boss is by far the easiest thing he has to go through the whole day.

Like with many of his life altering events—memorably: losing his first tooth, failing his first class, crying the first time he'd tried to suck cock—Minseok waits a week before telling Jongdae. He needs private time to digest things and properly psyche himself out of his own wits before he drags someone else into his newest crisis.

By now, it's not even him who initiates the contact. His lack of initiation is what prompts his friend to reach out first, at Minseok's doorstep so he can't just give his screen a constipated stare before finally pressing decline.

It's sort of amazing, in retrospect, that Jongdae has hung onto him since primary school. Minseok is okay at making friends, and absolutely shit at keeping them. He won't hesitate to say that Jongdae pulls most of the friendship weight between them, but if Jongdae is rowing this boat then Minseok is always behind him to catch when he slips.

Nonetheless, Jongdae is still the one rowing and Minseok honesty believes his friend has to be part of the soulmate package somehow, because he can't imagine a true happiness without him.

"You've iced me out for like five days now Minseok, what happened?" Jongdae calls from the other side of the door. In an impressive show of sincerity, Minseok reflects on Jongdae's importance to him while simultaneously not moving a finger to let him in.

"I have a key. I know you know I have a key," Jongdae switches to a minute of silence later. Minseok used to be cheeky and respond that no one is home, but he's grown out of that habit. "I'm not going in unless you let me, and I'm also not leaving until you do."

Once, Minseok tested that will and left Jongdae outside a whole five hours. His friend caught a cold, and Minseok swore he'd never make him wait longer than an hour from then on. A rare benefit of Minseok's friendship is that he takes promises seriously and deals them out rarely. He hasn't broken this one since. 

Now, Minseok checks the time. 8:33PM. He'll face Jongdae at 9:07. It feels more comfortable than nine on the dot.

"Thanks," Jongdae says with complete sincerity once inside despite the fact he was left in the cold for more than thirty minutes on purpose. It's one of the things Minseok both loves and does not understand about him: how Jongdae manages to accept all his particularities with such grace. He isn't sure whether to call it the patience of a saint or a high tolerance of bullshit when it comes to Minseok.

Jongdae's response, when Minseok asked him about it years ago, was a shrug and: "I get it."

_I get you._

"Don't thank me for tea you bought yourself. All I do is keep it in my cabinet for you." They're sitting on Minseok's couch, and there's various food wrappers and articles of clothing and a few blankets strewn around. It's evidence of Minseok's days, spilling out of his hands and into his living space.

Jongdae shakes his head. "Not the tea, though thanks for getting it ready too. I meant thank you for letting me in."

Minseok softens. The ball he'd unknowingly pulled into loosens, his arms falling limp by his sides. "I always will. I promised: no more than an hour."

"You're never really obligated to do anything, even when I'm being stubborn. I don't take your trust for granted." Jongdae reaches out and musses Minseok's hair, a smile playing on his lips. It quickly drops into a dismayed grimace, followed by his hand stiffening before retracting slowly. "Oh, you haven't showered. Gross. What the hell happened?"

This is going to go from very dramatic to very stupid, Minseok already knows. He takes a deep breath, and the sigh he lets it out on seems to deflate his whole body.

"I met my soulmate." He doesn't dare look at Jongdae when he continues. "And I ran away from him to go to work immediately."

There's a fragile tension in the air that lasts all of five seconds before the peels of Jongdae's laughter shatter it ruthlessly.

"You ran from him!" he squeals. "Minseok, that's your ticket to happiness beyond anyone's dreams—oh god, I can even imagine you doing it too." Minseok doesn't bother to grace him with a reply until his howls turn more into snickers and he's had his full fun of Minseok's distress.

"Are you done?" he asks pointedly.

Jongdae holds up a hand, and he still can't speak whole sentences but he nods anyways.

"Alright alright, so you ran from him. Did you at least pick up any identifying features to find him again? And it's a him, right?"

And like that Minseok unloads everything he's been stewing over the last almost-week, starting with how little he actually saw of his soulmate and ending with his unfounded concerns about being a disappointment of a partner. 

Jongdae tells him what he expects to hear, that he won't be able to disapprove or confirm his ideas if he can't find the guy again, which brings him to his most pressing anxiety.

"Do you believe in fate, Jongdae?"

"Uh, yeah, kinda," his friend replies, face scrunched. A big chunk of their culture is reliant on it after all.

"Then tell me it'll work out, even though I apparently dropped my ID card and no one has contacted me about it in five days."

Minseok is not an initiator. Fate can happen to him, and knowing fate it probably will regardless of what he does, but his fate will never include Minseok actively seeking it. He files a basic report to the police about his lost ID, but he doesn't seek a replacement just yet. He doesn't search for it himself either. Maybe someone will find it, maybe it'll be the string leading his soulmate back to him. Minseok runs his mind in circles to justify ignoring the growing problem of not having his identification on him. All to wait on something or someone that might never happen.

His soulmate had seemed famous too. Minseok hasn't tried to look him up on the internet once.

That'd been one of the things he told Jongdae, that he doesn't even know enough to search the guy online, and that was without admitting even if he did, he wouldn't.

In his head, Minseok is staring at a closed box. He has in his hands every tool needed to open it, and yet he refuses to begin. Refuses, or can't. There's a bit of a blur between will and want, as there always has been with him. Consciously he thinks he does want to find his soulmate—really he _knows_ he does, but his body and mind remain planted where he is, stagnant and unmoving.

Minseok understands that part of him too though, and when he thinks about himself thinking, that's when his head starts to hurt folding in on itself. He's terrified of change, so of course even if he's perfectly capable of starting the project that will open his life to happiness, he'll hesitate. He'll stare and stare at this box, unopened, and come another week he will still be staring at it except twice as stressed as before because he should open it but he can't.

It's in times like this he falls back on fate like a safety net. No matter what one does, opposing fate is nigh impossible. The natural course of events is that every step Minseok takes brings him closer to where he's meant to be. He cannot walk backwards, nor can he escape, and while it could be restricting he only finds comfort in the certainty.

Whether he drags his heels like this or charges for it headfirst, the result will be the same. Or rather, what's meant to happen will happen _because_ Minseok does nothing.

Maybe.

Sometimes, he actually believes himself.

Two days later marks a week since their encounter, and comes with a sigh of relief from Minseok. The one-eighty he had expected his life to do hasn’t happened, and the thought that maybe it won't inches closer into the circle of probability.

Rationally, this should make him happy; the comfort of stability is a worn sweater. Except this one kind of itches, and Minseok chews on the skin of his lip with increasing fervency the more days that pass.

It takes another week for him to accept that he is not happy at all.

It really isn’t that he _doesn’t_ want to meet his other half; it’s always been a low priority, is all. And when faced with the sudden reality right at his fingertips, fear overtook everything else. But fear is just a step away from anxiety, and with enough time to acclimate himself to the idea that his life will change supposedly for the better, Minseok starts worrying he’s already missed that chance in his cowardice.

No matter how much research humans do, none of them really understand fate. How the hell had he had so much confidence that he plays no role in his own life? Maybe life has forks in the road and he’s ended up on the wrong one because of his dallying.

Faceless voices of his past have been cropping up again, echoing off the walls of his skull.

_You’ll never be truly happy without your soulmate._

_Aren’t you at least curious?_

_Out of all the people in the world, there’s a single one meant just for you. You’re telling me you don’t want to meet them?_

They’re wrong. He does want to meet his soulmate.

Alone in his apartment, Minseok tucks his blanket under his chin and no matter how much he curls in on himself, he doesn’t feel any warmer. He might have really fucked up this time.

On his nightstand, he doesn’t notice the date change to January 23.

Minseok awakens sobbing. The tears don’t do it so much as the literal wails tearing out of his throat, his entire body feeling like it’s shrieking with him.

There has never been a moment where Minseok confused his emotions for his soulmate’s. He spends too much time in his head for that.

Right now, he isn’t even considering there’s anything more at work than himself.

He grips his comforter in trembling, white-knuckled fists, and only when a wave of exhaustion hits him yet he still won’t stop crying does it dawn on him that these aren’t his tears. Not completely, at least.

His lips tremble with the effort to compose himself, but his shaky exhales meant to calm himself down never stop stuttering. The glowing digital figures on his clock are too blurry for him to understand. He gives up, until a few more minutes of thrashing and feeling miserable drives him to squint and try again, like it’ll make a difference.

8:34AM, January 23. He'd forgotten The Day. His soulmate, that celebrity guy, he's just woken up. Minseok has experienced countless January 23rds now; this is the first time he has a face to associate the anguish with. For the rest of the morning, Minseok can't tell the difference between his feelings and his soulmate's.

"His name is Kim Jongin," Jongdae says, without any preamble. Minseok looks up from his ramyeon. 

"Huh?" Noodles plop back into the soup when Minseok pauses slurping just to look at his friend. He grabs a napkin to wipe at his mouth. "Who's that?"

"Your soulmate," Jongdae replies. "I looked him up, since I figured you didn't."

Minseok gapes. "How? I didn't look him up because I couldn't."

Jongdae looks at him pointedly. "You didn't even try. I know you."

He can't refute it, so he doesn't. "How'd you do it then? I gave you even less than a bare minimum to work with."

"Well for one, he had to be some kind of public figure if he had a crowd and security near him. And we already know your soulmate travels a lot. I took a chance and looked up the news articles the day you met him, and what do you know?" Jongdae taps his phone and holds it out for Minseok to look. "This guy shows up. He's the son of some wealthy family, used to be a model or something, and he finally came back to Korea for the first time in years. Otherwise he spends his time hopping the globe, doing who knows what. The pieces lined up, so I thought—"

"It's him."

Minseok abandons his chopsticks to take Jongdae's phone with his both hands, as if dropping the device might cost him everything he's learned in the span of a few minutes. The man in the article heading is the same one Minseok had seen weeks ago. It almost feels surreal that he has the chance to look at him for longer than a second, zooming in on his picture like he could memorize the pixelated features.

"I actually found him the day you told me you'd met your soulmate," Jongdae adds, and Minseok is too distracted to do more than nod before his head shoots up.

"Jongdae, that was weeks ago."

His friend shrugs. "You didn't want to meet him weeks ago."

It's been about three weeks now since their first meeting, and just a day after Minseok's emotional breakdown that he apparently shared with one Kim Jongin. He contacted Jongdae afterwards to share that he was going to look for his soulmate, for real, and his friend had surprisingly told him not to make any moves yet. 

They'd agreed to a night in with instant noodles, Minseok completely oblivious to how his friend would proceed to spin his entire world on its axis.

"You haven't happened to have thought about how an average civilian with one friend manages to arrange a meeting with a guy who has bodyguards, have you?" Minseok asks, feeling the hope in him deflating like a used balloon already. He’s always been better at finding complications than solutions.

According with Minseok’s expectations (but against his secret hopes) Jongdae also dims. “I didn’t get that far, no,” he admits. So Minseok sighs again and slurps his ramyeon in a distinctly more dejected fashion.

There’s a few things to be worried about now. First, the ages old “Will I ever meet my soulmate?” dilemma that most of the population faces at some point in their life. Usually in their teen years, but nonetheless, point one. The second, more personal.

How long will this bust of confidence last before Minseok loses his will all over again?

It’s in light of his second problem that Minseok takes an unprecedented day off from work to soulmate hunt. In retrospect it’s nothing to his one week voyage around Korea when he’d first tried to find Kim Jongin back in high school, but with more direction and the help of tabloids, an entire day dedicated to tracking one man down sounds like enough. With age came a stronger appreciation of time; a day for one activity, focused, is actually a very rare feat. And opportunity. He will probably not be able to take another day off soon.

He almost feels like he should be packing a backpack like he had on his hitchhiking journey, but walking around Seoul like that would be ridiculous. Shaking his head, Minseok physically wills himself not to make this so dramatic, even if it might change his life.

He gets as far as opening his door before nearly shrieking at the figure in front of him.

Minseok’s first thought is Jongdae, except his friend is still asleep. He knows this, because he’d tried and failed to get some pre-departure hype via text from the one person who knew what he was doing.

The large sunglasses and designer clothes can't really be anyone else.

“K-Kim Jongin?”

“Kim Minseok,” his soulmate says, sounding winded just at the sight of him. He fumbles with his wallet, and then holds out a familiar card. “You... dropped your ID.”

Instead of taking it, Minseok is too busy staring at Jongin’s face. He knows the sunglasses are for privacy more likely than not, but he can't help how he reaches out and slowly slides them off. Jongin doesn't stop him.

When their eyes meet, it's not electric like the first time. Instead, Minseok notices how the corners of Jongin’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, and his own lips pull up in response.

“I was waiting for you,” he says, regardless of the fact he'd quite literally been about to step out of his apartment to go look for Jongin.

“Oh, you were? I made you wait then—my bad.” Jongin must be going for apologetic, but the smile that persists on his face takes off the edge of sincerity. Minseok doesn't mind all that much.

“Three weeks, Kim Jongin. You made me wait three weeks.”

He invites his soulmate inside anyways. 

It's not every day your newly discovered soulmate walks into your apartment and you offer to make tea. This still shouldn't be as hard as Minseok is making it.

Jongin is sitting on his couch—the same one he's spilled soup on, slept on, had both serious and ridiculous conversations with Jongdae on—and such a life changing person just… being there, in a part of Minseok’s life, is screwing up his reality. He's happy, of course, no doubt; it's just a lot.

He doesn't even keep good tea. Jongin is going to hate this; Minseok only has Jongdae’s favorites.

“If you hate this, don't complain to me.” He means it as a joke, but it comes out all wrong. Too sharp, too biting for what should be a light comment. “I mean, my friend—you should complain to him instead.”

Minseok holds out the mug, and he's not looking at Jongin so he can't see what face his soulmate is wearing when he takes it.

“I won't need to complain to anyone. It's perfect, thank you.” Jongin’s voice is warm and polite, and while it convinces him to actually look at the man, it also sends his mind whirling. Polite. Perfect. Distant. Minseok’s heart is simultaneously fluttering while also feeling painfully awkward.

He's kind of hoped being soulmates would ease the tension of being strangers, but in the end they're still both.

“Will you sit? I feel… weird making you stand in your own home.”

Sitting next to Jongin hadn't even registered as the appropriate next course of action. Minseok feels photoshopped into his own apartment—stiff, out of place, and not supposed to be here.

He coughs and tries not to make it obvious he needs to think about how much distance to put between him and Jongin before he sits.

Jongin takes another sip of his tea, and without a drink of his own Minseok is left to flounder. Should he say something? What does he want to say? He's spent years pushing the thought of a soulmate away, and he'd vaguely figured he had time to mull over opening lines in the process of his search.

As the silence drags on, Jongin is the one to break it again.

“Did I—Am I making you uncomfortable? Being here? I can… go…” He sounds awfully unsure for a man who's proposing the idea himself, but it's not like Minseok can't relate.

He shakes his head immediately. “No, don't go. I mean, I just found you after twenty-something years. It'd be a waste to kick you out so soon.” Minseok picks at his nails. “And… I do like having you here, in general. I’ve thought about this.” His words are all coming out wrong, but he hopes at least when he meets Jongin’s eyes even a fraction of his sincerity comes through. 

“I was worried about coming, actually,” Jongin admits. He sets the mug down on the coffee table with a soft clink. A dullness that only comes from conscious caution. They're both a bit on edge, it seems.

The thought calms Minseok.

“We’re soulmates, but we’re still strangers first. When I found your ID—uh, well more like Junmyeon found it and gave it to me, but… I'd really hesitated. I had all of your basic information on hand, but you got, like, a second’s glimpse of my face. It didn't seem like a fair trade.”

Minseok blinks, and honestly he hadn't even thought of that. Brought to his attention, it doesn't really bother him either.

“I looked you up on the internet. I feel like that's a little worse, considering you didn't try to do anything with my ID. There's… some things I shouldn't have read.” Tabloids, gossip, speculation. Minseok couldn't help himself, and he'd concluded not to let Jongin know he read it. Mission failed.

Jongin winces, and Minseok bites his lip, can't meet his eyes.

“Ah, yeah, that's… what my friends told me after. Not that you'd done it, of course! But that you _could_ and that it's totally reasonable to use the information I have to get this back to you. Which, uh, I should give it back—” Jongin holds out the piece of plastic and Minseok accepts it with a small nod. There's a thank you on his lips, but it does when Jongin continues on.

“But then I was also thinking: who wants a stranger barging into their life? You even looked kinda pissed off when I first saw you, and I know it was partially my fault, so even if we're soulmates, maybe you didn't want some strange guy showing up at your apartment suddenly…” Jongin trails off, and Minseok realizes it's because that's exactly what ended up happening. Strange guy shows up at his apartment suddenly right as he's about to go looking for said guy.

“It's fine,” he cuts in. “I mean, honestly I'd… kind of had those thoughts. Like, I freaked out the first few days after we met, because I was convinced some big change was going to happen since I actually met you. But then I got more used to the idea of you being… reachable and not just some faceless person, and I wanted to find you.” Minseok’s lips twitch into a smile and a soft chuckle escapes. “Though you ended up finding me. A lot faster than I would have, I assume. No bodyguards to get through with me.”

It feels liberating to say it. To explain to the man himself why at first he hadn’t run into his arms. And strangely, all of his anxieties calm down once he realizes that Jongin had considered them already.

This soulmate thing has some truth behind it.

Jongin finally relaxes the apprehensive line of his brow and smiles. Minseok already knew from both his pictures and the moment at his door, but he's struck again by just how radiant his soulmate is.

“You won't have to worry about bodyguards anymore. Honestly, those are only in Korea, and they've lessened since I arrived. My return was a bit of a… big deal, as you probably read.”

Minseok doesn't see the point in lying, so he nods.

“Things’ve calmed down, as long as I don't draw attention to myself. No bodyguards and no hoards of people outside, see?” Jongin gestures to the window, even though Minseok’s apartment is on an upper floor and if there _were_ such people outside, they certainly wouldn't be there. The oversight endears Jongin to him a bit more.

“If there were, I'd have definitely kicked you out and claimed I don't know what a soulmate is.”

If Jongin was radiant when he smiled, he's absolutely blinding when he laughs.

The conversation flows more naturally from there, dipping into questions about their personal lives and interests. Minseok learns about every pet Jongin ever owned, and in turn Jongin learns that Minseok has never had a pet, which he swears he'll fix someday. It'll be a first they can share together.

What they don't talk about is family—specifically Jongin’s. Minseok has already learned more than he wanted to from a nameless tabloid writer, and it'd made him feel itchy then and downright rotten now.

So he finds topics that are far away from that, and Jongin is more than happy to accompany him on the journey.

Eventually, they were bound to end up at the crux of what makes a soulmate a soulmate from the moment they're born.

“This is kind of awkward, and I completely get if it's too personal—”

Minseok’s schools his expression, but the sudden shift in tone has him on alert.

“But you can ask me a personal question too, after. I won't mind.”

Minseok nods, even though he doesn't necessarily agree with trading one personal admittance with another. The thought is still considerate for whatever he's about to go through now.

“Since awhile ago, I’ve actually kept a journal of all the times I've cried when it wasn't… you know, me.” Jongin wrings his hands together. “Not now, obviously, but someday… I'd like to know why you were crying, if you can remember.”

Minseok probably can, and some instances off the top of his head he wouldn't mind sharing. But others are indeed more personal, and he thinks it probably is best for another day. He reaches out to put a hand over Jongin’s to still them, and smiles.

“When the time’s right, we can go through your journal and I'll tell you what I remember. Technically I wasn't the only one going through it, really.”

Relief practically bursts on Jongin’s face, and he unclasps his hands to lock his fingers with Minseok’s, an action that draws out a soft flush.

“I’d like that, seriously. Whenever you're—whenever you'd like, it's something I've always wanted to share. Tears and the experience.” 

Minseok hadn't thought so deeply about it himself, but if Jongin takes it to heart so much, he can't help filing it away to bring up at a later date. They've only just met and Minseok already has the urge to give Jongin the world.

“Your turn. Any awkward or personal questions, I'll listen.”

Minseok is about to say he doesn't need to, that this isn't really a matter of evening scores. But his mouth betrays him, because after thinking about every moment he's cried, one thing sticks out.

"What happened on January 23rd?"

Jongin doesn't need to speak before Minseok winces.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Sorry it's—"

They both speak at the same time, and if it were any other context Minseok might have laughed. As it is, he falls silent at the same instant Jongin does, and has the grace to look guilty. Jongin does too.

Minseok shakes his head slowly. "No, don't apologize. I should know better than anyone else it's... sensitive. Even if you asked…”

"It's not that I don't trust you—"

Minseok holds up a hand. "I said it was okay, really." He smiles even if it's a bit brittle. He's usually not so invasive and nosy; it's embarrassing. "You can tell me when you're ready, or never at all if ends up that way."

Jongin is still for a few moments longer, and then he visibly relaxes. "Thank you, I'm sorry."

Minseok chuckles. "I said you didn't need to apologize. I think I should have done that first honestly." He looks at Jongin sheepishly. "Sorry."

Jongin eases into a smile. "It's alright. I said you could, technically.” He looks down. “Sometimes I forgot I wasn't going through it alone, emotionally."

Minseok nods, and he's so wary of overstepping he doesn't know if something should come out of his mouth too. 

Jongin must pick up on his awkwardness, because he rubs the back of his neck. "I mean... I don't think I'll never tell you, honestly. Ideally we have many, long years together, so I just... need time."

Minseok tells him he can have all the time he needs, like Jongin has given him, and the air lightens after that. Conversation lapses into a fragile but not suffocating silence. Minseok doesn't know if he's going too far when he breaks it to say, "From now on, when it, when... that time comes," god could he be any more awkward about this? Minseok presses on. "You don't have to be alone—physically."

There's a beat where Jongin blinks at him and Minseok's words catch up to his brain. 

"I-I mean not in a weird way—just, you've never been alone emotionally, but now we've found each other so if... if you want to visit me, at that time, I usually take the day off of work anyways so..." Minseok shrugs, trying to ignore the burn of his ears.

Jongin doesn't say anything and Minseok doesn't dare to look.

"Thank you, Minseok," Jongin finally says after a long pause. Minseok chances a glance at him, and he looks a little dazed instead of offended, which is... well it could be worse. "I'd worried, sometimes, that my soulmate thought I was annoying, crying for a whole day every year. I knew it must have been a hassle, and I meant to apologize for that when I met them but... they'd obviously ask about the date, and I—"

It feels like Jongin is raking his own burns over coal, and Minseok cuts in just to stop him before he spirals any more.

"It's fine. I mean, it wasn't the best and it wasn't easy, but it's also nothing I couldn't handle. It let me know you were alive every year, so it wasn't all bad." Maybe if he'd been a happier person he'd resent his soulmate more for this grief, but as it is Minseok is no stranger to sadness. If there's anything fate did right, it was giving Jongin to him—someone who could empathize with the weight of sorrow independent of the soulmate bond. "I never once resented you."

Jongin has his head bowed, and Minseok doesn't get what's happening until he blinks and there's tears in his eyes. He watches Jongin's shoulders tremble, and Minseok doesn't even wipe his own eyes before he wraps his arms around him.

"You have me," he murmurs, and it almost surprises him. He's usually not big on hyperbolic gestures of comfort. Actions have always felt like more than enough. "You'll always have me."

Jongin sinks into Minseok's embrace, and Minseok rubs his back as quiet sobs break down his voice into something much smaller than his broad shoulders and high chin. Minseok lets out a shaky breath and lets the tears streak his face without interruption. 

It's very ironic that their beginning starts with goodbye. Jongin insists it's not a real start, because nothing has really happened like it should have, so this is more like a delay before a beginning, but the truth is their story began the day they locked eyes and avoided each other for a month fearing the same thing.

According to fate, their beginning could even have been when they were born, destined to cross patches no sooner nor later than they're supposed to.

But nonetheless, Minseok is saying goodbye to his soulmate a day after properly meeting him.

"I could cancel my trip,” Jongin had insisted when he brought up his plans the night before. “Money isn’t a problem.”

Minseok shook his head. “You don’t want to cancel it. I saw what you looked like when you told me about everything you wanted to do.”

The night had wound down from its climax into more mundane, aimless topics that mostly consisted of the places Jongin had gone, and the places he wanted to go. Minseok’s life wasn’t nearly as exciting, so he fell into Jongin’s world instead and felt a little like Alice exploring Wonderland.

He wasn’t about to rob his soulmate of the next step in his journey for something as intangible as getting to know each other.

“Promise to tell me about it when you get back. You have my address, my name, my number, you’re not going to lose me in a week,” he insisted.

Jongin had a mixture of surprise and delight fighting on his features, until finally a smile bloomed on his face and he leaned forward to kiss Minseok faster than he could react.

He realized his mistake immediately, jerking his head away, even if he didn’t look particularly regretful. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I never thought you’d be so perfect for me.”

Minseok blinked, then everything caught up with him properly and he shook his head.

His arms went around Jongin’s neck.

“Do it again.”

Jongin ended up staying over, but all they’d done was sleep after Jongin asked if Minseok wanted to do more and Minseok laughed before shaking his head. The mood wasn’t right, and neither of them were feeling it.

He looked at Jongin for any sign that he was wrong, and only saw the same awe and affection reflected in his soulmate’s gaze that made him feel special. Like he was every one of Jongin’s dreams come true, despite being… himself. An average person.

So in retrospect, his heart isn’t that heavy as he waves at Jongin, who beams back at him from the boarding line. Because Jongin had bought him a ticket; not so Minseok would go with him, but because he wanted him to wave him off at the gate. It’s a gross display of wealth and frivolity that still has Minseok laughing.

The line is starting to move, and Minseok steps back with the intent to watch even after Jongin boards. He makes it about two paces before the other man is dashing towards him and pulling him into a kiss that feels like the kind Minseok only sees in movies. His stomach flutters before he closes his eyes, and just when his fingers tighten around Jongin’s back, they pull apart and Minseok is met with a man he swears is shining.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss my soulmate in an airport,” Jongin breathes, beaming down at him. Minseok snorts and smacks his arm lightly.

“Isn’t that usually for when you return and not when you leave?”

Jongin laughs too and pulls Minseok closer, sighing happily into his hair. 

“Didn’t want to wait that long.”

**Author's Note:**

> i have a lot more i want to do with this verse, but what i had in mind didn't feel right with chapters so it'll probably be collections of oneshots! things like what happened when jongin came back, them actually getting to know each other, making it work when fate doesn't magically fit their pieces together (entirely, anyways). this honestly feels more like a minseok exposition than xiukai, so pls consider this the.... 8k introduction to a wider verse ill expand on when i kick myself into writing it.
> 
> i hope it was an enjoyable read anyways and may xiukai nation thrive!!!


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